


Happy Birthday, Hartley

by ChaoticCosmos



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, References to Depression, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 01:04:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9692891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticCosmos/pseuds/ChaoticCosmos
Summary: Hartley dropped off the grid to go travelling and over a year later, still no one had noticed. This led to loneliness, loneliness led to drinking, and drinking led to a phone call to a boy who has a strange ability to create portals and, essentially, travel through time and space.Did I mention it was Hartley's birthday too?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story on this website. I'm still debating whether I should turn it into a much longer fic or make it into just a bunch of little one shots.

I didn’t tell anyone that I was leaving – they wouldn’t care anyway. After I finished helping Barry, Caitlin, and Cisco defeat the time wraith I knew that they wouldn’t need me anymore. When I had dinner with my parents the night we took down the time wraith I could tell they were at least trying to understand me but I found that, even if they were my parents, perhaps it would just be easier to stop trying. I never did understand any of that “Blood is thicker than water” and “Family is built on love” bullshit. I don’t think you should have to forgive someone just because they’re family, but that being said, I still ended things on good terms with my parents and perhaps there will come a day when I will be ready to reconnect with them.

For now, however, I was hitchhiking my way across Europe, seeing as much of the world as I could and picking up part time jobs here and there to own a bit of cash. It had been a few months and no one had been in touch with me. I guess nobody worrying about you is a side effect of having no friends, and having no friends is a side effect of being a prick. Cisco had called once to gain confirmation on something about soundwaves but didn’t talk long, or ask how I was, or ask where I was, like I said; nobody worrying about you is a side effect of having no friends. However, after months of travelling the globe on my own, I was beginning to feel kind of lonely, and, lord forgive me, part of me was happy to see Cisco’s contact appear on my phone. But I knew that I didn’t actually mean anything to anyone over at S.T.A.R Labs, and why would I? I was just an asshole who they could call for a second opinion but other than that I’m sure they’d rather avoid me at all costs. Just because I helped stop a dementor of space and time doesn’t mean I get to be invited over for tea now and then.

It was June now and I was in a hotel room somewhere in Ireland, sitting on the window ledge and staring out at the slowly darkening sky. I usually hated my birthday because it had a tendency to bring bad luck, or maybe that was just me all of the time. I decided to stop wallowing in self-pity and go out and try to drown my sorrows instead. After all, I was in the land most famous for their drinking, I may as well try and enjoy myself. I pulled out Google maps and found the nearest pub, then grabbed my wallet and hotel key, and headed out.

A few hours and a few more drinks later, I was efficiently slumped over at the bar, trying to come up with a good reason why I shouldn’t fall asleep then and there. I found myself pulling out my phone instead, checking the time and then calling the first person in my recents. I put the phone to my ear and listened to it ring three, four, times before someone picked up.

‘To what do I owe the pleasure of receiving a call from the one and only Hartley Rathaway?’ Came Cisco’s cheery voice through the receiver. I knew I’d regret this in the morning but at that very moment I couldn’t bring myself to care and replied anyway.

‘I just wanted to talk to someone.’ I answered honestly. ‘Sorry, did I wake you or something?’ I suddenly felt very guilty, having not checked what time it might be over there.

‘Hart, its 1pm.’ He spoke and I internally face palmed. On another note, however, when had he ever called me Hart? And why did it fill me with the first sense of joy I’d felt in months? I quickly apologised and explained that I hadn’t checked what time it was over there. “Over here? Hart, where are you?’ and there it was, the million dollar question that I’ve been waiting months for someone to ask.

‘Ireland.’ I replied simply. He didn’t say anything, perhaps expecting context, so I kept going. ‘I’ve been travelling for the past few months. Or I guess it’s been over a year now, huh? Over a year and no one noticed.’ I mumbled the last line, it just kind of slipping out. As much as I regretted saying it, there was also a small part of me that selfishly hoped he’d heard it.

‘Hart, I’m-’ it sounded like he was about to apologise but stopped himself. ‘Are you drunk?’ Uh-oh, busted. I laughed a small bit which I guess he took as a yes and I wondered why he even cared, why he hadn’t just hung up after the first few seconds of talking to me, or better yet, not answered at all. Apparently I’d voiced these concerns out loud and once again he went quiet for a moment. ‘Hart whe-’

‘Why do you keep calling me that?’ I interrupted, regretting it immediately as it may have meant that he would stop calling me it.

‘Because-’ again, he stopped himself, cleared his throat and spoke again. ‘Where are you?’ He asked again.

‘I told you. I'm in Ireland.’

‘No, I mean, where in Ireland are you right now.’ He rephrased.

‘Uh, some pub near my hotel.’

‘Hartley, go back to your hotel, take care of yourself, and go to sleep.’ He lectured. I decided to challenge him with an “Or else what?” I knew it was childish but I couldn't bring myself to care very much at this very moment in time.

‘Or else I’m going to have to come get you.’ He threatened and I laughed at his empty threat. I heard some tapping on a keyboard and then the line went dead. He hung up on me. I slipped my phone back into my pocket and resumed my position of having my head rested on my arms. I shouldn’t be so disappointed and yet it just seemed a bit odd that he’d talk to me for so long before just randomly hanging up. I did, however decide to take his advice and start the short walk back to my hotel.

I’d barely left the pub when I heard a strange noise coming from down an ally-way. If I’d learnt anything from horror movies, it’s that following the strange noise was the very last thing you should do, but in that moment finding out what was down that ally-way was the only thing on my mind. I chanced it and walked down the alky-way to see a strange, blue glow. Moments later I saw someone appear out of the glow, and surely this was some sort of alcohol-induced hallucination, but the person closely resembled the same boy that I had been on the phone with merely a few seconds ago. The blue portal-thing disappeared and the person took off their weird goggles. It really was him.

‘Cisco, what the fuck?’ Was the first thing to spill out of my mouth before I could stop it. The next thing to spill out of my mouth was a majority of my stomach’s contents. Cisco took my glasses to stop them falling off my face and into my own vile, and rubbed comforting circles on my back.

After I’d finished being sick, I straightened up, wiped my mouth and put my glasses off. I had a lot of questions but before I could ask anything he shushed me and we began walking toward the hotel I’d been staying at.

Once we had arrived back at my hotel my room, Cisco immediately started mothering which, as embarrassing as it was, I still appreciated it. I went straight to the bathroom to clean up while Cisco poured me a glass of water.

‘Do you want to tell me why you were out drinking when you knew perfectly well that it would hurt your ears?’ He lectured as he dug around in my backpack for aspirin that wouldn’t worsen tinnitus. I hadn’t noticed until I was back in the quiet of the hotel room but my ears were slightly ringing, even through my hearing aids.

‘Do you want to tell me how you’re in Ireland right now if you were in Central City not even an hour ago?’ I countered, sitting down on the bed and taking a big drink of the water that Cisco had placed on the bedside table next to the medicine.

‘That can wait until tomorrow, Hart.’ I internally breathed a sigh of relief that he was still calling me that, having thought for the past hour that he’d never say it again. ‘But right now, you should get changed. Trust me, you do not want to fall asleep in jeans. Oh my god, Hart I’m not going to peak or anything. Stop being stubborn.’

‘Maybe I want you to peak.’ I slurred under my breath. I covered my mouth a second later, realising what had slipped out, but another second later I was giggling about the entire concept of being drunk in Ireland and having the Francisco Ramon somehow teleport halfway across the world just to tell me to drink water, get changed, and go to bed. Surely this was just a dream. ‘Cisquito, am I dreaming?’ I laughed in a bit of a sing-song voice.

‘You’re not dreaming, you’re getting changed.’ He reprimanded, rolling his eyes and leaning over to unbutton my button up.

‘Well isn’t this saucy, Cisquito.’ I purred, shrugging the shirt off. He rolled his eyes again but stayed quiet, passing me a sweater that I pulled on and then assisting me in getting my jeans off. When I was finally in bed, my glasses sitting on the bedside table, and close to dozing off, I saw Cisco stand up to leave. Whether he was leaving the room or the hotel altogether, I wasn’t sure, but the prospect of being alone again, if only for a second, filled me with a kind of anxiety I hadn’t felt since I’d gotten on the train to leave Central City in the first place. ‘Cisco,’ I called out pathetically, grabbing his hand. He turned to look at me looking tired and confused. ‘I don’t want to be alone.’ Cisco bit his lip and looked between the door and I then sighed. He shuffled out of his own clothes and found another sweater before climbing into the bed next to me. I rolled over and either because the alcohol had made me drowsy, or because there was finally another person beside me, I found myself drifting into a peaceful slumber for the first time in over a year. Just before I fell into unconsciousness, I felt something soft press against my forehead and the quiet whisper of,

‘Happy birthday, Hartley.’


End file.
